


Breathe

by frankcastlesfemfeb (Deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, F/F, Flashbacks, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9631730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/frankcastlesfemfeb
Summary: Femfeb 2017 | Fanfichana has a panic attack and amélie helps her cope





	

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

Hana knew she was awake. She could feel the mattress under her back and the tangle of blankets at her feet. She recognized the crags and pocks of the acoustic ceiling up above. In the periphery of her vision she could see the open bedroom, her clothes strewn across the floor. She could also see the flashing warning that said her mech was in critical condition.

Hana knew it wasn't real. It seemed so real, she could swear she was really seeing it. It couldn't be real, though. She wasn't in her mech. She was in bed. Panic prickled all over her body, making the hair on her arms stand on end. She ached in the bones of her ribcage, chest pain plaguing her.

Her ears rang with the sound of fusion cannon fire. She knew that couldn't be real either but she heard it. She heard it so clearly. Hana knew that sound better than she knew her own voice. Being able to decipher fusion cannon fire from the sound of enemy omnic weaponry meant life or death on the battlefield. There was no mistaking what she heard, it was just that should couldn't be hearing it. Not here, not in the quiet of Amélie's bedroom; it shouldn't be possible.

The panic that had been prickling through her body suddenly gripped her hard. Hot tears rolled from the outer corners of her eyes, into her dark hair and onto the pillow where her head was laying. Her breath came in short gasps. Her chest pain doubled.

Thoughts of her last battle on Naksan beach intruded into her mind. The ruined Naksansa temple, the Haesugwaneumsang stone statue of Buddha cracked and broken, the flashing warning of her mech in critical condition, crawling on her hands and knees in the sand towards the safety of black bamboo, the severed limbs of her fallen platoon Commander stretching out from under a ruined MEKA unit that was cracked and broken pn the shore, and fusion cannon fire. All up and down the coastline, she could hear the sounds of artillery.

" _Breathe_."

No one had told her to breathe in the thick of the assault. The section leaders had called for tactical re-positioning, for flankers to engage, for medics to assist the fallen. Their voices were like wailing sirens over the comms, more worrying than the sound of gunfire or boosters thrusting.

Hana felt a cold hand on her stomach. No, not her stomach, her sternum. Cool fingers stretched out over the span her rib cage. It was hard to shake the thoughts of the firefight from her mind but the touch brought her attention to her own hyperventilating and short, sharp panting. If she stared at the ceiling hard enough even the flashing warning in the corner of her eye seemed to fade.

Last but not least to leave her was the cannon fire. It echoed in her mind. Hot tears rolled towards her ears again and again. She had successfully managed to make it through the hallucinations, now it was just the rest of the panic attack she had to fight through.

"Hana," Amélie sat up beside her. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder to hide her bare chest. She looked as though she had just woken up. "Breathe."

_ I'm trying _ . Hana wanted to shout at her. Instead she took a shaky breath in, drawing it deep into her chest before letting it out. Slowly but surely she regained some control over herself and her lungs. Her stomach felt uneasy and her chest still ached but at least she had stopped crying and could manage regular breaths.

Amélie watched her carefully with pale golden eyes. Her gaze was mild. She wasn't analyzing Hana or dissecting her or even pitying her. She was just watching. When she was fairly confident the panic attack was through she raised her slender fingers from Hana's chest. She wiped away a hot tear with her knuckle.

"Alright?" She asked.

Hana sniffled and nodded.

Alright for them didn't necessarily mean the same thing for other people. Of course she wasn't really alright. Post traumatic stress had ripped into her the moment she'd woken up and fed her a nasty panic attack for breakfast. She was alright enough now that it was over but, no, on the whole she wasn't alright.

Amélie understood, though. She had a fair share of night terrors and hallucinations and panic attacks of her own. She got it in a way other people didn't. That was why Hana came to her, crawled into her bed, kissed her and held her and let herself be kissed and held in return.

Amélie knew to help her with her breathing. She knew that light touches were acceptable but hugs were smothering. She knew not to bring up beaches, even if it was perfect weather to go to one.

In turn, Hana knew not to try and stop Amélie from breaking things. They could cover the fist sized holes in the walls with posters and framed pictures. She knew that warm embraces and tender kisses were welcome afterwards. Comfort was important to Amélie. She liked to be held.

They danced around each other. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest dance but it worked. That was all that really mattered. They found relief and understanding in one another, different as they may be.

"Want a distraction?" Amélie asked.

Hana nodded again. She closed her eyes and felt cool lips on her own. She kissed back. Cold fingers brushed lightly over the tops of her thighs before delving between. The pleasure was welcome.

Hana sometimes wondered what the world would think of her, sleeping in the bed of a known assassin. Kissing the infamous Widowmaker on her pale, cold lips. Making love to the enemy. She ignored calls from her agents and managers when she was with Amélie. She barley responded to texts from her friends. Overwatch didn't know about this and they never would.

She knew she was running from the real world and all it's problems but that didn't stop her. With Amélie she could breathe. That's all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to comment if u like!
> 
> i'm accepting prompts and suggestions for femslash february all year round. drop'em [here](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> also, please check out my [2017 femslash masterpost](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/post/156687675803) on tumblr :) 
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


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